


you can steer yourself any direction you choose

by fangirl_squee



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparks leaves the USSA Academy behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can steer yourself any direction you choose

**Author's Note:**

> this is slightly non canonical, since Sparks did graduate from USSA Academy.
> 
> thanks to Sophie (as always) for betaing/delightful comments on this, and to Maddie for helping with the ending and generally being the light of my life.

 

> _Wherever you fly, you'll be the best of the best._
> 
> _Wherever you go, you will top all the rest._
> 
> _Except when you don't_
> 
> _Because, sometimes, you won't._

 

Sparks went quietly up the dorm room steps. It was late, and anyone who wasn’t asleep would be studying for the last of their exams. He’d gone downstairs when his father called, walking around the empty campus with his holophone as their conversation got louder and louder. He was pretty sure his father had only ended the phone call because his voice had given out.

 

His roommate had made himself scarce, leaving a note on the door telling Sparks that he'd be off-campus at his girlfriend's place "if you need anything".

 

"Yeah, I need you to make the USSA Academy Board listen to reason,” said Sparks hoarsely.

 

Sparks looked around his side of the room. Nothing to do now but pack up his stuff and head out, and he’d rather do it now than when the campus was awake. Everyone _knew_ already, no need for them to stare at him while he was being cast out, just for a little out of the box thinking.

 

It wouldn’t take long, a lifetime of moving around hadn’t left him with any great hoard of stuff. He dragged the standard-issue USSA duffel out from under his bed. First went the clothes (he’d have to think about getting civilian attire now), then the bundle of letters from the Commander, a few photos (mostly taken by Mercy), and all that was left was the pile books on his nightstand.

 

He debated leaving them behind - most of them were USSA training manuals and therefore no longer applicable to him, but he _had_ bought them. They _belonged_ to him. Surely no one would fault him for taking them. The Academy already had copies anyway, they didn’t need his copies, with his scribbled notes in the margins.

 

He moved part of the stack, knocking over the rest. They fell behind the nightstand. Sparks muttered a string of curses, crouching down to retrieve them. He pulled the nightstand out of the way, wrinkling his nose as the dust swirled.

 

He wiped off the dust before he put the books in the duffel. _Regulations of Hyperspace Travel N57 - T89_ , _USSA Craft Through The Ages_ , the standard issue translation phrasebook, and, dustier than the rest, _Oh The Space Places You’ll Go!_

 

Sparks stared at the faded picture book cover. He’d forgotten he had it. Or, no, that's not true, he didn't _forget_ but it was one of the first things he'd unpacked when he got to his dorm room the first time, left behind in the rush of studying and new friends. If he'd been a better frame of mind he might have appreciated the symmetry of it being the first thing he’d unpacked and the last thing he packed back up.

 

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen it in a while, he still knew it by heart. Practically every USSA graduate got one from their proud parents on graduation day, and so there’d always been copies of it around somewhere on whatever base they’d been on, signed by family and friends. Sparks’ copy just had the one small note from his parents.

 

Numbly, Sparks flipped to the first page, and in the corner was his mother's precise handwriting:

 

_Noodle -_

_I know this is more of an Academy graduation gift, but I'm so happy for you that I couldn't wait! I know you'll make your father and I so proud. You're going to make a wonderful Captain someday._

_Love,_

_Commander Stacy Kerns-Nevada and Captain Caiphas Nevada_

 

Sparks didn't know quite how long he stood, holding that book and staring at his mother's message, while his father’s words echoed in his head. And the longer he looked at it, the angrier he felt.

 

_You're going to make a wonderful Captain someday._

 

Sparks' eyes felt hot and itchy and he squeezed them tight. He wasn't about to cry now, after everything, over some dumb book. USSA officers didn’t cry, and just because now there was no way he was ever going to be one of those, that was no reason to - Sparks took an unsteady breath in - no reason to -

 

_I know you'll make your father and I so proud._

 

His hands shook, and the corner of page started to rip. Without meaning to, Sparks began to bend to book, bending the spine more and more until there was a tearing sound as it ripped. He tore it in half again and again and again until just the cover remained, scraps of paper fluttering into his open duffel as he stared at them, panting.

 

Sparks scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling exhausted.

 

He dropped what was left of the book into the bag and zipped it up. It was little more than rubbish now, but it didn’t seem right to leave it behind. He could always throw it out when he got to … where ever it was that he ended up.

 

He took one last glance around the room, checking for anything he’d left, before he flicked the light switch off and walked out of the building. He headed to the transport station - if he wasn’t going to be in the sky, well, then he’d better figure out where he was going.

 

\----

 

Sparks kept the book for a long time - through the War for Earth’s Moon, through Marshal Academy, through prevented planet-wide disasters and unprevented personal disasters, through losing his job and getting it back again, the book stayed as scraps of paper at the bottom of his mostly-forgotten duffel bag.

 

He dragged the bag out the cupboard, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell of it. He’d taken most of the important stuff out when he’d gotten a place on Mars years ago, and the bag was a good size for the few belongings Pemily would need to transport with her to the moon. He hoped she wouldn’t mind the USSA stamp on the side, after all, her memories of leaving the Academy were more positive than his.

 

He shook out the bag and blinked in surprise as coloured paper floated down to the floor with the red dust. It took him a few moment to recognise the fragments of the faded pictures.

 

Sparks moved the pieces around on the floor, forming part of a well-remembered page. The last time he’d looked at those pages he’d felt angrier than he’d ever felt in his life. But it also felt like he was looking at the actions of a different person, a too-young, foolish, brash person, partial to ripping books apart. A person he left behind a lifetime ago in a dorm room, or a battlefield, or on a shuttle to Mars.

 

He moved a few more scraps around. It seemed like against all odds all the pages were intact, save for a few missing pieces. Without really thinking about it, he taped the pages back together as neatly as he could, putting the fixed pages loosely inside the battered cover.

 

He flipped through the pages, wondering what to do with the book now. He could give it to the Mars library, although they’d probably frown on being given a book in such bad condition. He could give it to the Widow Johnson, but it would be awhile before the Baby Johnson would need words of encouragement to head out into the universe. Keeping it was always an option, as memento of times past, but they weren’t exactly times he wanted a memento of.

 

Inside the front cover, his mother’s note caught his eye. He traced a finger over the words. They were a message to someone starting out in things.

 

Well. He knew someone who was about to do just that.

 

 _To Pemily Stallwark, Moon Marshal_ , he wrote under his mother’s note, _if you ever feel small, remember that an ant can still carry ten times its body weight._

_(but you can still call if you need help lifting)_

_\- Sparks Nevada, Mars Marshal_

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins.tumblr.com


End file.
